By Choosing a college was easy.
My mom was a business professor at Carroll, so my education would be tuition free.
I enrolled as a nursing student, and unsurprisingly was surrounded by people who really wanted to be nurses.
But three months into my decision, I was convinced that College wasn’t for me.
I went to class, but had a hard time retaining knowledge. I felt like I wasn’t a great fit for the college “environment.”
I had only picked nursing because that career sounded interesting, and nursing was a well-known and well-respected Carroll major.
I wasn’t failing out, but I wasn’t doing great.
I definitely wasn’t happy.
I made it to Christmas break, but I felt lost. I tried to figure out why I was struggling, why I was unhappy.
It was clear to my family that I wasn’t happy.
I was trying to wedge my creative type B personality into type A, STEM-shaped box.
I had a conversation with my older brother who observed that in the process of my pursuing an education, I’d given up everything I used to enjoy.
Then my brother asked a question only someone you love dares to ask: the tough blunt one.
“Where’d that love go?” my brother asked. “You gave up your identity to become someone you’re not.”
That wasn’t easy to hear, but he was right.
We spent the next few hours reflecting on the passion I once had for music, and brainstorming how I could rekindle that passion.
I had first picked up a guitar when I was 8, and a violin when I was 10. I played for a couple years, but only because my parents insisted.
The first time I actually liked music was when I was 12 – that’s when I started playing drums on assorted pots. I liked the fact that there were no notes or theories, only rhythm and sound.
At 13 I upgraded from pans to real drums. I wrote lyrics that I could sing to keep me in time when I played.
Whether at home, or in class, I wrote about anything that happened during the day.
“So I’d rather watch than talk, always the weird kid who acted out in school, but sitting in class was my avenue, ’cause then I could think about what would happen if my dreams came true.”
I know, a lyrical genius.
For the next six years, throughout middle school and high school, I played drums in a band with a few buddies and performed at whatever talent show I could. I helped clean at a church to get free lessons from the drummer. I played in the Helena High orchestra, and I played for the Carroll marching band while still in high school.
But most of my time was actually spent writing lyrics.
Music became my main hobby – until I headed to college.
As I started classes, I made the conscious decision to focus entirely on school and live the “college experience.”
I knew distractions might interrupt studying for hard exams, so I set aside my drum sticks, picked up my laptop, and began to pursue an education.
In retrospect, it’s easy to see now why I got depressed.
I gave up something I truly loved, and replaced it with…well, with nothing, really. I had no college dream. I had no passionate plan to follow a major to a great career.
I was one of those first year “undecideds” who planned to figure it all out when I got there.
Thanks to my brother, I diagnosed why I’d been so depressed: I was trying to wedge my creative type B personality into type A, STEM-shaped box.
I decided I needed a creative outlet.
Anatomy 101 wasn’t filling the void.
But what else is out there?
Dropping out of college was an option, but a risky one. Music was a passion, but not one that would pay all the bills. I mean, that would be cool, but dropping college – especially when it’s free – seemed like a formula for living in my parent’s basement.
The answer, I decided, was to work music back into my life. Perhaps that musical lift would increase my motivation to study.
That day in January of my freshman year I decided to download GarageBand and record my first song.
The song was titled “Low Quality,” and while I now cringe every time I hear it, that day I thought it was amazing. At least I got the title right.
Over the remaining two weeks of Christmas break I released four rap songs, each one seemingly better than the last. Not one surpassed 20 streams, but I still felt gratification in the process and expression.
All of these tracks featured an overpowering array of drums, with some low-lying upbeat chords.
All elements were conjoined with a terrible use of autotuned rap vocals, which is never a good idea.
Immersing myself in music during break was lifting my spirits. But as the second semester approached, I started worrying again.
What’s the next stop?
I decided to do what strong-willed adolescents are often reluctant to do: Talk to mom.
“Aren’t there computers involved in making music?” she asked. “ I think you could tie that into a computer science major.”
School was only two weeks away, so I wasn’t sure if I’d even be able to switch my major this late.
I emailed my advisor, who said he’d have to withdraw me from my existing classes, and pray that there was room in the computer science classes.
Fortunately for me, the computer science program was low on students.
After a few weeks in CS, it became clear to both me and my professors, that I did not have the tech skills of my peers.
Nonetheless, I loved the classes, and made up for my lack of knowledge by working hard and being willing to learn.
One day I came home and saw a box labeled “Rode NT1A” on my front porch. I was ecstatic but hesitant. This was a premium mic, that I could not afford. Why is it on my porch?
I opened the box and the first thing I saw was a letter from my uncle.
“Heard you’re making music, here’s something that should help you out,” he wrote.
Sure enough below the letter was a Rode NT1A, a Focusrite audio interface, and an xlr cable.
This was just the inspiration that I needed to put together my recording studio in the shed outside of my house.
Every night after school I would come home and write lyrics or build a melody for whatever I may have felt during the day. I had some friends from the community who would come by a few times a week and just hang and help me put together a track.
A few of these friends started taking their own music seriously, so I gave them keys to the shed to come by whenever.
My uncle’s gift inspired me. Over the next few semesters I’ve released one album and 12 singles heard in over 45 countries.
I have also contacted venues and have two scheduled performances for the remainder of 2023, one of which might be at Carroll.
Meanwhile, I continued my search for a major that would fit my dreams.
CS helped me to realize that in addition to making music, I also love artificial intelligence, and the creative ways technology is being implemented into our society.
There were still classes I disliked, but when I actually enjoyed the topic, going to class felt less like a chore and more like a privilege.
My GPA in the fall of my freshman year was a 2.5. My cumulative GPA now is a 3.35.
My brother was right. I needed to balance school and music. Paying attention in class was impossible unless I knew the application. In CS the application can be created as you go, just like music.
I graduate in less than a month, with a plan to pursue film in California.
I was accepted to Chapman film school, but a few days ago, I declined.
Paying $60,000 tuition isn’t in my range, and I have a friend of a friend in the California film industry, who said he’s got some work for me.
So in August I’m leaving Helena and home. Unlike three years ago, I have a plan – well, sort of a plan, one involving chasing two dreams.
I’m relying on someone I’ve never met – which means Movie Clayton, and Music Clayton, will likely both end up working at the same restaurant.
To me it doesn’t matter. The money isn’t important.
I’d rather wait tables and make enough to support my dreams, than make more, throw the dreams away, and be right back where I was three years ago.
I’m working on my lyrics for the next chapter.
I hope my soul guides me on notes.
I hope my mind knows where to go.
So take it slow.
